Page 49 of Doctorshipped
“Well, I would. You’re amazing. You’re fun, creative, sweet, kind, and outgoing. And you are a girl hockey player which is extra-cool. I hope you always know you’re awesome even when other people can’t see it.”
I listen to every word easily flowing from Jayme’s mouth. It’s so natural for her to compliment others—well, everyone but me, it seems. And Fiona’s face nearly beams with the praise.
“But, teasing hurts, even when we know the person doing the teasing is the one with the problem,” Jayme says.
I couldn’t have written a better script for her to say. She’s building my daughter up, empathizing, and still letting her feel all the emotions of having been picked on.
Jayme pauses and puts her hand over Fiona’s on the table. “Is there anything else I can do to help you get through this?”
Fiona’s voice is bright and relieved. “Nope. Cookies fixed everything.”
“They usually do,” Jayme says with a smile. “Okay. So. Enough focus on Noah. Haters gonna hate. Potaters gonna potate. Tomaters gonna tomate.”
“What?” Fiona says, echoing my confusion.
“People are going to do what they’ll do. We don’t need to focus on the haters in life. My books occasionally get some hate in reviews. I just shrug and say, ‘not my reader.’”
I unfortunately mumble something like, “Fantasy romance. Now, who in their right mind would knock that?”
Jayme gives me a sideways glare, but it lacks heat. “People like Señor Sunshine over here might not understand my art form or the type of stories I choose to write. But do I let that get me down?”
Fiona shoots me a look that says I’m not her number one, all-time-favorite person anymore, and Jayme is. “No. You don’t,” Fiona says to Jayme with a bob of her head for emphasis.
“That’s right, I don’t. So, let’s take the focus off Noah and his feeble attempts to pop your beautiful balloon. Tell me three awesome things about your first day at Bordeaux Elementary. Or at least three fun things. Or three things that didn’t slurp goat drool.”
Fiona laughs hard at Jayme’s phrasing, and her laughter spurs Jayme to join in. When the laughter dies down, Fiona launches into stories about two girls she met, her teacher being “so funny and sweet,” and the cafeteria food being home-cooked. I stand by on the fringes, nibbling pieces of salami like a carnivorous fly on the wall.
Then I head back to my office, unable to shake the image of Jayme comforting Fiona on a day that could have set a tragic tone for the whole year if she hadn’t spread her particular brand of sunshine into my daughter’s heart.
17
JAYME
“What do you have so far?” Shannon asks me.
We’re snuggled up on the couch in our pajamas, and I’m crafting fortunes while Shannon ties off small tulle bags of chocolate truffles for wedding favors. People might scoff at this profession—my fortune cookie gig—well, most people don’t even realize actual humans write the pithy sayings inside the cookies that come with their takeout. In reality, consistently coming up with new and witty one-liners takes a lot of creativity.
“Let’s see,” I say, looking down at my laptop list of fortunes for this week.
“You are about to be $14.95 poorer, unless you ordered the daily special.”
Shannon laughs.
“And …This is not the fortune you’re looking for.”
“Ahhh. A little Star Wars humor there.”
“Yep. Also …Be the soy sauce in the chow mein of life.”
“Cryptic, but encouraging.”
“Right?! I thought so.”
Shannon offers an idea. “How about,I see money in your future. Specifically, when you pay the bill.”
“Oh my gosh! I love it!” I type her suggestion.
“So, oh wise one, what do you make of the vibe between you and Doctor McHotty?”
